Never Again
by JayN1127
Summary: On Hiatus. HPNaruto Crossover. He was forced to watch on as those he loved suffered, as those he loved were lost, desperately wishing for escape; perhaps a redheaded youth and his family can bring light to those emerald orbs again.
1. Chapter 1

Never Again

Rating: M for mature content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto in any way or form.

Warning: Slight AU and crossover, slash, angst, language and violence.

Note: It would be most appreciated if you reviewed once done with your reading, any comments will be taken into account to better the storyline. I may go back and review it myself time and time again to check for any visible flaws with the structure and fluidity of the writing itself, anything is subject to change.

* * *

The Beginning of an End

* * *

They had forgotten him. His aunt and uncle's lack of care was nothing new to the raven haired boy; for years they had abused him, forcing him into servitude. Early he woke, before any of the household prepare a light breakfast, a feast in the eyes of any other: plates overflowing with pancakes several feet high drenched in maple syrup, enough scrambled eggs and bacon to feed at least a dozen mouths. He was forced to work in the blazing July heat, tending to the flowerbeds and the hedges; beads of sweat forming against his pale skin, constantly falling his eyes, blurring his vision. Despite the sting, the boy said nothing, choosing to remove his black rectangular glasses before wiping the sweat away as if it was only a minor irritation. The boy would work well into the evening, the setting sun would mark the day's end; he did all this under the ever watchful eyes of his aunt. Despite everything and anything he did however, nothing seemed good enough; nothing seemed to please his aunt or uncle, his only reward ever being a frosted glare and deep cutting words.

He told himself time and time again that they were just words and that they could not hurt him but even he knew he was lying to himself. It was not so much the words themselves, but the speakers. Despite the suffering he endured at their hands, nothing would and could change the fact that to the young raven, they would forever be family, _his _family. Even if they did not love him, he loved them unconditionally. Even if they did not care, he cared endlessly. Even if they hated him, loathed and despised him, he would never turn his back on them when they needed him, the happenings on his months before his birthday only strengthening his resolve to protect them, to love them, to care.

* * *

_The day had started out like any other, breakfast consisting of pancakes, eggs and bacon like the days before. The frosted looks from his aunt and uncle remained the same as he served them._

"_Do you have any plans today dear?" his uncle asked, addressing his wife. The blonde haired woman turned, the corners of her thin lips lifting to form a sweet albeit small smile. She had a long face and large pale green eyes, long lashes framing them. As the years wore on, wrinkles began to play at the edges of her eyes and mouth. His aunt was not an ugly woman, though not beautiful, she was fairly attractive. As the boy watched on, guilt washed over him. It was because of him that his age had aged so. It was because of him. He idly wondered how their life would have been without him. Would they always exude such warmth and love as they did before him? Would they have no worries in the world? Would they truly be happy? These people had taken him into their life and he would try his hardest to repay them, to protect them. The boy was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not hear her reply, his musing broken only by his uncle's scream._

"_Did you not hear your aunt boy?" proclaimed his red faced uncle. As the boy shifted his large doe eyes towards his uncle, he was greeted with a large and beefy frame, years of pancakes, eggs and bacon clearly evident. The man's dull brown eyes narrowed, his too thin lips settling into line. When he opened to berate the boy, he was suddenly cut off by his wife._

"_Did you hear me? I told you to run to the store and return with some flour and sugar. Your uncle has guest coming tonight and I will not allow you to embarrass him." The boy merely shifted his eyes back towards his aunt, startled that she would stop her husband's coming rant. "Now," she proclaimed, lips drawn into a thin like not unlike her husband. _

_Silently, the boy made his way to the bakery on Pudding Lane, his thoughts wandered towards his aunt's behavior. _Perhaps … she cares …_ For years, the boy had hoped that despite her cold exterior, she held some semblance of love for him. By coming to his defense, the boy was convinced that perhaps she did care. His musing had closed the boy to the outside world, his feet moving of their own accord. So enraptured with his thoughts, the sudden appearance of his older cousin did not even register itself._

"_Dear cousin, you really shouldn't be spacing out. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, do we?" The ebony haired boy was visibly startled, earning himself a smirk courtesy of his cousin. Taking after his father, the blonde boy was quite large but through his involvement in boxing, he had developed a sturdy frame. _

_Before a retort could be uttered, he felt it: the feeling of complete and utter despair; the images of that fateful Halloween night; the screams and begging for his life to be spared and the green light that enveloped his mother, stealing her away before he could ever truly know her. The pain gripped him so, forcing him to his knees. "Wh-h-at's t-h-h-haaaat!" screamed his cousin, stumbling backwards, landing himself in a heap. No sooner had the words left his lips, a figure clad in tattered black robes glided towards him. Extending a ghostly pale finger, it lovingly traced the older boy's cheek, as a mother would her new born. The junior boxer sat there, as if hypnotized; his eyes clouded, reliving his worst nightmares. _

"_No … no … stop … stop … NOOOO!" gasped the raven through labored breathed. "You will not hurt him … your target is me." The cloaked figure merely retracted its hand, leaving the blonde where he sat in a pile of his own sweat and vomit, turning to face its new target. Pushing himself up through the aid of the wall behind him, thick wisps of white smoke began to suddenly appear, taking shape before them, condensing to form a stag. _

_As his eyes trailed over his creation, confusion and awe swirled within the depths of those orbs. "Prongs … ? How … can it be? I don't have my …?" The stag before him craned its neck around, borings its eyes into his, as if willing him to understand. Within seconds, the corners of his full lips tugged upwards, hinting at the beginnings of a true smile. "It's been a long time hasn't it … Prongs." It was more a statement than a question and the stag before him merely neighed his agreement. Focusing his eyes upon the creature before him, those emerald eyes which lost their sparkle so long ago shone bright with determination. They shone bright with familial love. As the stag charged forward, straight towards the creature, the black robed figure before them suddenly screeched, fear clearly evident as it fled, leaving two the cousins to pick up the pieces and move on. With the threat gone, Prongs stood facing the dark haired boy, as if bidding a silent goodbye while the setting sun illuminating him for all to see before he vanished, carried off through the wind._

_With his beloved stag gone, the boy quickly rushed to his cousin, whispering sweet words of comfort as he cradled him, hoping that they would be enough. His older cousin's eyes held so much fear, so much despair and helplessness that the boy thought nothing strange of the hug, craving the need to touch, to take the warmth offered as if it was a lifeline._

_When the cousins arrived home, the older boy was quickly enveloped in twin hugs, courtesy of his parents. "What wrong son? Are you alright? Did anything happen? Who did this to you?" both parents questioned. They were so distraught at the prolonged absence of their son, fearing for the worst. When they finished their examinations of their son, two sets of eyes turned towards the smaller boy. "What did you do to our son," his uncle stated more than asked, his face beginning to blotch up in varying shades of red, his eyes narrowed into slits._

"_Honey, that's enou-" his aunt tried to interrupt but she was quickly silenced when those narrowed eyes landed on her, forcing her to look away, fear evident within those pale green eyes. She held onto her son, shielding herself from the sight before her, knowing what was to come._

"_Boy, you will answer me. NOW! What did you do to my son?" threatened his uncle. Even as the large man advanced towards him, the boy said nothing, choosing to stare at his own feet, knowing nothing he said would be enough to placate the larger man. _

_-Smack-_

_The sound reverberated throughout the room, causing any who heard to wince but the small boy said nothing as blood began to fall from his lips. He said nothing as he was assaulted by his uncle, choosing to curl up in a fetal position on the floor. He said nothing as punches landed against his ribs, shattering them upon impact through the sheer force of the blow. He said nothing as legs forced their way against his stomach; dark blotches began to form as evidence of each and every kick he suffered. He said nothing as his face was pushed into the carpeting, breaking the black rimmed glasses he wore and burning his skin raw. He said nothing as his uncle locked him inside his cupboard, promising the light of day would never again land upon him. He said nothing because he knew, convinced that he deserved anything and everything that was happening to him._

If I wasn't here … they would be so much happier.

* * *

As the young raven thought of his cousin's bout with the cloaked figure, tears unconsciously began to well up, forcing the young man to blink them furiously away. _I do not regret my actions that night. I only regret it was because of me that he was hurt so … my presence alone caused such pain and suffering for them. It was me all along … _It was because of his failure to stop caring that hurt him so. Every word they spoke hurt, cutting him down until he was no more. Each and every word was like a razor: sharp, lethal and straight to the point. Their eyes were like the frozen Tundra, chilling all that stumbled upon them. When those eyes turned towards him, he was reminded of their hate, of their loathing, of their lack of care and love towards him. Their eyes held so much emotion, so much anger and hatred that he would involuntarily flinch and turn away. After each and every confrontation, he wished himself stronger, wished himself able to simply not care. As the seasons changed, so too did the young raven's heart; with every passing summer he spent with his relatives, he grew colder, showing less and less of his once youthful persona. _How much more can this heart of mine take? How much more can I endure?_ With each passing day, with each passing second and hour, his eyes would lose a bit of their sparkle but despite the changes, it was not enough. It was never enough but today was different.

_Today marks the beginning of an end; today, I call Number 4 Privet Drive my home no more. With my leave, this family will have the peace they deserve._

It was with these thoughts that he walked alone, truck in hand towards Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whining, Surrey. Past the hedges, the benches and flowerbeds the young man walked, but when he reached the door, he stopped abruptly – the front door had been left ajar. Never would his aunt allow such, their neighborhood had such keen eyes and ears. Slowly, he crept inside and with a -click- the door was closed. His thoughts were utter chaos; his mind raced for possible explanations: perhaps his aunt had been careless and was just napping up the stairs? Perhaps his cousin had left the house in haste Piers Polkis for the cinema and the door was the evidence? If not that, perhaps his Uncle had been late for work and thoughtlessness was the criminal to this crime? But as his mind thought up this and other such explanations, his heart knew otherwise. It frightened him so as evidence in his shaking hand still clutching tightly to the doorknob. It was like a lifeline, one he desperately clutched onto for he knew that once he turned, he would be forced to face reality.

"I'm so pleased you could finally join us today Harry Potter. We were growing so utterly bored without you. There just isn't much to do in Surrey is there?" hissed a man's voice, a voice cold and hard like steel. When he turned to face the speaker, a pale snakelike face and glowing amber eyes greeted him. Too shocked to do much else, he stood still and stared at those amber orbs. He would never forget those eyes, those eyes that held so much hate, those eyes that promised so much suffering and despair, those eyes that saw to the murder of his mother and father but there was another emotion within those orbs this evening, one that Harry could not place.

"Voldemort ...?" Harry whispered.

"Now, now, now _Harry_, I'm sure it hasn't been _that_ long since we've last seen one another, it saddens me so that you've forgotten me. Perhaps now that you've arrived, a little game is in order, one that will leave you with a _lasting_ impression of me." No sooner had he uttered those words did nine other voices laugh coldly, alerting Harry that there were others besides Voldemort and himself. With their laughter, the raven was finally released from whatever silently gripped him, allowing him to take in the scene; before him stood Voldemort and his inner circle of Death Eaters. Their wands held at the ready should the Boy-Who-Lived try his hand against their Master but as Harry eyes trailed down, he was once again gripped by paralysis; at their feet lay his relatives.

His aunt, his uncle and his cousin were bloodied beyond recognition. Their limbs stood out at odd angles, unnaturally so … _no … _stood flowed freely from the gashes that lined their bodies … _what have you done … _clinging to them like a second skin. As he looked closely, he noticed the stillness in his Uncle and Cousin's bodies … _they were innocent …_. He noticed the lack of breathe, the lack of everything and anything that signified them as citizens of the Living.

_They were all I had left! How much will you take from me before you are ever truly satisfied? My father and mother … both claimed before I could ever truly know them. _Tears threatened to fall as he realized his world had come crashing down once more. _Before my Godfather, I was left to suffer and struggle alone. I alone bore the weight of the Wizarding World but with his presence, the weight lessened and I began to see light in the darkness but even that you stole away. Will you take and take until I have nothing left? _

Even in pain and strife, Boy-Who-Lived would never allows these _people _to see him weak, he would rather face death time and time again before he would allow such weakness to be shown. Any and all emotion was reigned in and locked away. What was once an uncontrollable sea was no more and a barricade was erected within the confines of his mind, protecting what the Boy-Savior valued most, his memories; the good and the bad, everything. Those memories were what made him who he was. Slowly, Harry lifted his face towards the Dark Lord and his inner circle of Death Eaters. No longer did his eyes sparkle like emeralds, they had forever lost their luster. No longer did they exude their warmth and kindness that he was known for. As the Boy-Who-Lived glanced at each and every Death Eater, they found themselves involuntarily taking a step back, truly frightened of those eyes. Those eyes held nothing but death.

"Ha … r … ry …?" whispered a strained voice. The raven's head snapped towards the voice and what he saw brought hope to those eyes. It was his aunt Petunia, alive; her pale green eyes shades lighter than they should have been, the pain she suffered evident with every move she made, with every breathe she took. As her eyes looked at her only nephew, tears began to stream down her bloodied face.

"It would seem that our dear hostess has returned from her slumber. It would seem that your dear nephew has decided to grace us with his presence madam; perhaps now the fun can begin," hissed Voldemort, smiling maliciously. Harry now recognized what lurked within those amber orbs, joy. _You who have taken so much will take no more_. The raven haired boy slowly turned his gaze towards the Death Eaters and their Master. _You will not take her away from me._ His cold and hardened eyes glanced from one Death Eater to another before landing on their Master, Voldemort. _Even if I draw my last breathe this day, I swear it, you shall not lay another hand upon her._

The living room was eerily quiet and void of activity but the followers of the Lord knew something had happened, they could _feel _it within their magical cores. As ruby orbs observed the sight before him, they began to narrow slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. The boy's magic felt familiar but there was something different about this presence, this energy; it felt ancient but whatever it was, he vowed to himself he would unravel this mystery.

Soon, the Boy-Who-Lived was enveloped in a cocoon of energy, swirling gently, as if to envelope him in a soft embrace, as if protecting him from the world. It would gently caress his cheek, not unlike a mother and her new born babe. It was without a doubt alive and did not take kindly to the danger it sensed towards its master. As the little raven narrowed his eyes towards his adversaries, the presence stilled their ministrations before suddenly pulsing wildly. Chaos ensued.

Every Death Eater's wand fly from their hands and they were immediately thrown hard towards the wall, a sickening -crack- resounding throughout the room at their landing, signifying broken bones and cracked ribs. With a hastily shielding spell, Voldemort had saved himself the loss of his wand and bodily injury.

Narrowing his amber orbs, Voldemort hissed contemptuously, "_It would seem you have more than a few tricks up your sleeve boy_," hissed the man-snake in Parseltongue. "_I suppose the only solution to this little problem is your death, but your Aunt stands in the way of your demise with the Bond of Blood in place. I suppose you'll have to wait a bit."_ Before Harry could even move a muscle, he was slammed into the door with such force that he began to see stars. When he lifted his hands to rub his aching head, hoping to clear his vision, something warm coating his fingertips. Blood. It flowed freely and with every passing second, his strength waned and darkness soon began to cloud his vision. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, he could see Voldemort advancing upon his helpless Aunt.

_I have failed and again you prevail. _He was so tired, so exhausted, so full of pain and defeat that he allowed himself to slide to the floor onto his side. He could hear Voldemort's cold laughter and his aunt's screams of pure agony. _How much more from me will you take? How much more can I stand to lose?_ _I'm just so … tired … of this … of everything … of life. _Every scream reminded him of his failure; his failure to protect his precious people. Every pain filled scream forced him to recognize his own weakness, forced him to recognize how helpless he really was. _How can I protect anyone as I am now … _As he watched the torture of his Aunt, the tears he held back for so long were finally allowed to fall. He wept for the parents he never knew. He wept for the Godfather he had yet to know. He wept for his Aunt, his Uncle, his Cousin and others that fell because of him, because of his weakness and helplessness. _Take me away … anywhere … take me someplace … away … far … away …_

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and proclaimed savior of the Wizarding World saw and heard no more.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: M for mature content

Rating: M for mature content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto in any way or form.

Warning: Slight AU and crossover, slash, angst, language and violence.

Note: It would be most appreciated if you reviewed once done with your reading, any comments will be taken into account to better the storyline. I may go back and review it myself time and time again to check for any visible flaws with the structure and fluidity of the writing itself, anything is subject to change.

* * *

Memories

* * *

_Dull green eyes surveyed the passing scenery with mild interest, his ebony locks falling elegantly over his face, hiding him. The boy needed something keep him busy, something to keep him from thinking, something to keep him his thoughts from turning towards his newly discovered Godfather. _

_The man had suffered so much for crimes he did not commit. He was shunned for years, looked upon as if he was less than human for his so called crimes and sentenced to live the remainder of his days in confinement. For 12 years the man had been was incarcerated, forced to view the horrors of his past time and time again. For 12 years, he was forced to watch the looks of disgust from his past schoolmates and teachers he so loved. For 12 years, he was forced to relive the cold words and frosted glares from his blood, from his family. For 12 years, he was forced to relive the night he lost his most beloved friends and the knowledge that he was useless, that he could do nothing to stop their deaths was forever etched within his mind. For 12 years, he was forced to live with himself knowing that he had failed his Godson in every possible way but despite all this, he persevered. _

_Though the man escaped his confines, he was not left untouched; gone was his youth, of his innocence. The man who escaped became a mass of filth, his hair matted hung down to his elbows. He had grown gaunt and pale, his skin like wax, stretching tightly over his face made him look not unlike a skeleton. His eyes grew cold, full of pain and desperation but swirling within those dark orbs held hope, hope that the wrongs committed against him and his Godson could and righted._

_The day Godfather and son reunited would forever be remembered:_

* * *

He had finally cornered him, the bane of his existence; before him stood the betrayer of his parent's trust. The man before him disclosed their whereabouts, sentencing them to death and condemning him to a life of loneliness and despair.

"Harry," the man before him spoke, voice hoarse from disuse. "I've longed to see you before me, to explain everything that's happened but now that it has come true, I hardly know what to say." Those onyx orbs shone bright, their depths holding so much; they held such longing to see and speak with his Godson, to explain everything, to explain the circumstances of that fateful night, the night that they both lost so much. He wanted Harry to know the truth behind all the lies, he wanted Harry to see him for who he was, and not what others had made him out to be. He wanted to apologize for his absence; he wanted forgiveness for never being there when the young raven needed him most and his eyes burned with such intensity, with such determination that Harry was began to doubt.

"Don't you _dare_ call me by my name, you who betrayed my parents trust," the raven haired boy hissed venomously, his lips pulled back into a snarl, his eyes swirling with uncontrollable rage. The boy wanted so desperately to believe. The man before him seemed so genuine, everything about him screamed at him to believe, to let his guard down, to trust but his parent's trust had ended their lives and condemned him; he would not allow himself such a weakness.

"Harry, I would never betray your parents, you must believe-," Sirius tried to retort, but was quickly silenced.

"Don't believe a word he says Harry, he's only trying to distract you," spoke a bushy headed brunette to his right, the girl's almond eyes never leaving the escaped convict before her. "There is much evidence that proves you guilt Sirius Black; there is little you can say that can change our minds on the matter and we won't allow you to harm our friend through your lies." Her voice was soft, yet firm, not once wavering. She was convinced the man before was capable of the crimes he was convicted for, all logic telling her it was so. _I won't allow anything to happen to you Harry, you who have made me feel welcomed for the first time in my life. For you who made me feel truly wanted and belonged, for you, Harry, my first friend, I will protect you at the cost of my life. _

"You tell him Hermione! There's not a bloody chance in Hell we're letting you touch one filthy hand on Harry's head; he's had enough to deal with without you coming!" a redheaded boy to the young raven's left boisterously proclaimed. The voice, though light and soft in nature, would crack and strain at regular intervals, signifying the boy's coming of age. _I've always been ashamed of being a Weasley, but you changed all that, didn't you Harry? Giving your standings in the Wizarding World, you could have befriended anyone but you chose me, a poor nobody, a Weasley. You showed me true friendship, allowed me to be somebody, a friend and I will never allow anything harm you. _Those blue eyes narrowed as they fixed Sirius Black with a glare, promising pain and suffering to all who attempted to harm his friend. "You'll have to get through my dead body before you even think about coming after Harry."

"And me!" exclaimed the brunette. Their twin vows to protect their ebony haired friend reverberated for all to hear in the silent night. The trio had grown close over the years, supporting each other along the way when times were less than favorable. Within a span of three years, they had grown to be family. They gave each what they lacked and so desperately wanted, a true friend. They brought out the best in one another.

They brought out the worst in one another but despite this, they took it all, accepting it for what it was and never questioning: the jealousy, the bitterness and resentment because of a name; the love, the care and the acceptance despite anything and everything. The good or the bad, it didn't matter because what mattered was each other and being there for one another. As savior of the Wizarding World listened on, he was reminded just how lucky he truly was to have such friends who cared for him to such an extent. Their love and acceptance of him meant everything, the love and acceptance only family could ever provide.

"Thank you," whispered the young raven, his voice barely above a whisper, just enough for the other two to hear.

"Of course, anything for you mate, we are family and all," replied the red head, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, showing his support, hoping that the contact would ease the his friend's tattered nerves.

"I couldn't put it any better if I tried Ronald, it would seem you do have a brain," agreed the brunette, the minute tugging of her mouth hinting at smirk. Despite the criticism to his lack of intelligence, the red head merely laughed, shaking his head, clearly amused at his brown haired friend. The two knew their friend so desperately needed this, some hint of normalcy to bring balance back into in his hectic life and who were they to ever deny him such comfort. The year had not been pleasant, especially so for their Harry. With the coming of the Dementors to stand guard at Hogwarts, every day was short of a living Hell, the black robed creatures bringing forth all of their friend's nightmares to the surface. For that entire year, he was forced to relive the night of his parent's murder. For that entire year, he was forced to hear his mother's screams, her pleadings for his life. For that entire year, he was forced to watch as his mother's eyes lost their glow forever. After each and every confrontation, the two would always be there, whispering words of reassurance, telling him that it was over and that they were there, that they would always be there to comfort, to protect, to save.

As the raven's eyes trailed over his two friends, they soften marginally and amusement was clearly evident within those green orbs. _It was because of you two that I am even here today; without your love and support, I would have been lost to the darkness long ago._ As quickly as those eyes softened, they grew cold and hard once more before turning back towards his the betrayer of his parent's trust. With a nod, the trio sprung into action; Hermione, the first to act, used **Expelliarmus**, sending Sirius' wand flying across the room. Using the confusion at the convict's lost wand, Harry levitated the man and sent him flying against the wall. The force of the impact left the gaunt looking man stunned where he fell, giving Ron enough time to cast a quick **Body-Bind Curse**, effectively immobilizing him. Satisfied that the bound man could do no harm, they quickly advanced forward, Harry pressing his wand tip against the older man's throat.

"What-," tried the man but the added pressure against his throat forced him to reconsider his words.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" shouted the enraged raven. He was so close to ending it all; before him stood the man who betrayed his parents, sentencing them all to die. With a flick of the wrist and an incantation, everything would be over but there was something that held him back, something that told him that this was wrong, that the Sirius was innocent and as Harry locked his eyes with those onyx orbs, he saw defeat and acceptance of fate. _If you wish it so Harry, it shall be done. If my death leads to your happiness, I would gladly give it to you. I have failed your parents and you once before, if this is to be your answer, your judgment, I willingly accept_. Minutes before, he was so sure, so sure that this man deserved death but the longer he looked into those dark eyes, his confusion and doubt only grew.

Before he could decide what to do with the captured Azkaban escapee, a deep voice resounded throughout the room, telling him to stop, to let Sirius go, that he was indeed innocent. Before the trio could distinguish just who the intruder was, their wands flew to an outstretched hand waiting in the shadows. From the darkness emerged a man wearing patched and shabby looking robes. Though the man was quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with premature grey; he looked quite ill and utterly exhausted, as if the slightest wind would topple him over. The man before them was none other than Remus Lupin, their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time Sirius?" the ragged man asked, the corners of his mouth lifting to form a smirk, amusement clearly playing within those brown orbs at his friend's predicament. "You're looking a little worse for wear if I do say so myself." Following his words, a chuckle escaped, earning him a glare from the bound man at his feet.

"Oh shut up. Just get me out of this," Sirius replied, presenting his friend with narrowed eyes and full lips drawn into a thin line.

"As much as it amuses me to see you in such a state Padfoot, I suppose I must comply." With a quietly muttered counter-curse, the magical binds were undone, giving the bound fugitive free access to his limbs once more. As the two locked eyes, Sirius' stern expression slowly began to dissolve: his lips began to tug upwards, as if the whole predicament was in some shape or form entertaining; though his eyes were narrowed, they held such merriment within their depths that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor couldn't help but laugh once more, causing the man before him to burst into laughter as well. When their voices died down, they pulled each other into a fierce hug, holding onto each other for dear life, as if afraid that once they let go of one another, they would never see the each other again. "It's been too long Padfoot, too long." The man's voice began to quiver and crack, as if overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotions he long ago locked away deep within the confines of his heart. _I won't let you go this time, I promise it._ Sirius said nothing at his friend's sudden display, knowing too well that the man in his arms needed this, this comfort so long ago denied him, to them all.

Three heads merely watched in shock as their Professor stayed in the Sirius Black's embrace, as if he felt protected by the very hands that betrayed James and Lily Potter, his supposed best friends. Their Professor was in the arms of the same Sirius Black that had been watching them all from afar, waiting for the perfect chance to strike at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione and Ron stayed silent, watching their friend for any reaction he may have had, knowing that it was not their place to openly question the sight before them no matter how much it bothered them. The Professor seemed as if he generally cared about them all, even going as far as providing their Harry with lessons after class, helping him develop the skills needed to combat the Dementors and ultimately, his nightmares. It truly made their blood boil to watch on, to see the very same man that had helped them, that had aided them and their brother in his endeavors being so intimate with the man that had caused so much of their brother's pain. They wanted nothing more than to wreak vengeance upon the two before them, to throw every curse and hex that they knew, wishing, hoping to take the sight away but even though they were family, even though they were there to support, to protect one another, there were certain matters that they would never dare trudge upon. It was with heavy hearts that they stood, silently watching all that would transpire before them, waiting until the time they were needed arrived.

"What happened that night? What really happened to my parents if you are indeed innocent?" The Boy-Savior's voice seemed to cut through silence of the night; it was hard and cold, not unlike steel, causing all to visibly flinch at the tone. Sirius and Remus broke apart from their embrace upon hearing the boy's words, confused at the frigidness in his voice, regret shining in their eyes at their absence, at their not ever being there when the boy needed comfort, when the boy needed someone to care.

"Harry …," the bushy haired brunette tried, her hands shaking as she made her way towards the raven, but she was quickly rendered silent by look in her friend's eyes, her hands falling to her side. _I just don't them to hurt you Harry, I don't want to lose you should they be lying. _It spoke of pain and loss, and the need to know the truth regarding that night. She so desperately wanted to take Harry away from this, but she knew it was not possible.

Sensing her internal struggles, Ronald quickly moved by her side, pulling her into his arms, allowing her to take comfort as her as he supported her with his larger frame. As her head lay against his chest, she was soothed at the sound of his beating heart; it was like a lullaby a mother would sing to her distraught child. "It's going to be alright Hermione," Ronald began, his voice a soft and tender whisper as he bent down towards her ear. "Trust him. As we have always done, trust him." His words brought peace and with a nod against his chest, she listened to retelling of that fateful night.

"Harry, that night, it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed your parents," Sirius proclaimed, his eyes narrowed, hate and disgust swirling within those onyx orbs. "He was the secret keeper, not I. It was public knowledge that James and I were best of friends, it would have been too dangerous if I was to hold the knowledge of their whereabouts as the Voldemort and his legion of followers would head straight for me and I told this to James who readily agreed. Only Albus Dumbledore knew that Peter was the new Keeper. We never knew Peter had been turned sides, we never knew that he would betray us. Believe me! There is not a day that goes by without me thinking of James and Lily. Of you. If I had not suggested Peter, they would be alive to this day. It is my fault they are dead, my fault."

"Even if what you say is true, how do you explain what happened to Peter Pettigrew in Muggle London? There were many witnesses that can testify to his death by your hands. They say it was he who discovered your treachery and on the Dark Lord's order, you were to dispose of him," Hermione interjected with her logic.

"A week after Peter was made Secret Keeper, Voldemort had come and killed James and Lily. It was so consumed with grief, so enraged that my senses had left me. My only thoughts were to avenge their deaths. When I had cornered him in Muggle London, he used a Blasting Curse to create a diversion while he changed into a rat, his Animagus form. When the Aurors came, they found the rat's thumb and were convinced I had killed him."

"Even I had not known of what had truly happened but one thing I did know was that Sirius would have never been able to betray your mother and father Harry, he had loved them too much. To us, they were family," the Professor began. His eyes bore into the trio's, as if pleading for them to believe. Two men before them seemed so genuine, so sincere that as the Hermione and Ron listened on, they began to believe. "Because I am branded a Dark Creature, because I am a werewolf, my testimony of Sirius' innocence would have done little to change anything." At his admission, his head hung ever so slightly and his eyes began to dim. _I am so useless._ Seeing his long time friend in such a state, the Azkaban wrapped his hands around the smaller man's, squeezing them slightly, giving what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. When he felt the squeeze of another's hand against his own, his lips broke out into a gentle smile. _Now that you're back, I won't ever let go. _With Sirius by his side, the once exhausted looking man began to glow with renewed life, feeling younger than he had in quite some time.

"Harry, though it was Peter Pettigrew that had ultimately betrayed your parents, I am to blame as well for their deaths. I was to blame as well for forcing you to grow up without the love of a mother, without the support of a father. If … if you'll allow me to make it up, I … I would like it very much if you would come live with me." While Sirius had been making his proposition, his eyes had been downcast, as if afraid of his Godson's rejection but as he turned those onyx eyes towards the raven, hope shined forth from those dark depths. Hope that he would be able to provide and protect this boy before him, that he would be able to love him. Sirius knew that he could never replace the parents the boy had lost, but he hoped that he would be able to show the boy the love he was denied, the love he was entitled to from birth.

Seeing such hope burn within those depths, the Boy-Savior was forced to look away; the longer his eyes strayed upon the Azkaban escapee, the more confused he felt. For a better part of the year, he was led to believe that it was this man had betrayed his parent's trust, that it was because of this one man's actions that had caused the death of his parents. He had vowed to himself to catch Sirius Black, he vowed to himself that he would take revenge for his parent's betrayal; all that built up hate, all that anger and resentment for the man before him had consumed him, it became an obsession of sorts but that was gone now. Within a few moments, it was all gone. Everything that he had believed had turned out to be wrong. Everything he felt had been deemed wrong and there was such an emptiness within his heart, such a void that Harry did what to feel when his _Godfather_ offered him a home, something he had always dreamed of.

"I'm sorry … will you allow me to think about it? I'm just … a bit worn out," the Boy-Savior whispered, too tired, too emotionally drained to say more as he turned and began to walk away, leaving four occupants more than worried at the abrupt departure.

"Will … will he be alright?" Sirius was more than a little worried over his Godson's change in demeanor. The boy who showed such exuberance seemed to fade away before his very eyes and he feared he was to blame. As if sensing the wrongly convicted man's thoughts, Remus squeezed their still joined hands, as if to reassure him that everything would be fine in time.

"Harry is strong, incredibly so." Hermione replied. "He's had much to deal with for one his age; he's far stronger than any of us. Far stronger."

* * *

_It had taken the raven some time, but in the end, he had decided consider the man's offer of a home, of a family. It had been difficult to accept that Sirius was not the convict he had been made out to be, that he was not the betrayer of his parent's trust but with Hermione and Ron's support, he had begun to see the truth behind all the lies._

_Through the night they had talked, reflecting on their encounter with Sirius and the validity of his claims: Hermione began by pointing that if Sirius indeed been guilty of his crimes, he would not have hesitated to do them all bodily harm; but as it was, he had not lifted a finger against them, wishing merely to talk to Harry. Ronald had added a few words here and there to show his agreement but otherwise, he had stayed quiet, preferring Hermione to point everything out to their friend. By the dawn's break, the Boy-Savior had decided to trust once more._

_Before their arrangements could be finalized, Sirius had been forced to flee on the wings of a Buckbeak, a Hippogriff, or face execution by the hands of the Ministry of Magic for crimes he had never committed. It was with a heavy heart that the raven haired boy bid Sirius goodbye, fearing it would be their final moment together._

_It had been a week since they bid one another farewell, a week filled with anxiety and worry over whether or not the man had escaped safely or if he had been captured and was now dead and buried. As the emerald eyed raven thought back on the week prior, a knocking against the glass of the cabin window brought him out of his reverie. _

"_What's that sound?" Hermione questioned, glad a distraction of any kind had occurred to take her Harry's thoughts away from Sirius._

"_Ionno, seems to be coming from the window," replied Ron, a yawn following shortly after. Before long, a soft snoring was heard from the red head as the boy snuggled closer into the armrest._

_"Brilliant deduction Ronald, just brilliant. I wouldn't know what to do without you," the brunette retorted, a sigh escaping her lips. As she moved forward to open the window, a fluffy owl with a letter came into view. _

_"Harry, it's addressed to you."_

_As the boy scanned the contents of the letter quickly, the beginnings of a smile began to play on his lips. Sirius was alive and well. With the knowledge that his Godfather had escaped safely, a weight seemed to have lifted from the boy's heart, allowing him to breathe much easier than ever before... _No … this isn't real … _The Boy-Who-Lived would begin his life anew _… no … this is all wrong … _with his Godfather… _he's dead, he's been dead … no _… Sirius_ …. NOOO!

* * *

With a heart wrenching scream, the Boy-Who-Lived woke, panting, gasping for breathe as if he had been denied its presence. Beads of sweat rolled down his pale cheek, his hair matted against his forehead. He brought his hands up to wipe away the perspiration but found them shaking from the dream, the nightmare. As he gathered his emotions, he began to survey the room around him in hopes of distracting himself, stopping as green orbs were met with brilliant blue.

"It seems you are awake."

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Rating: M for mature content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto in any way or form.

Warning: Slight AU and crossover, slash, angst, language and violence.

Note: It would be most appreciated if you reviewed once done with your reading, any comments will be taken into account to better the storyline. I may go back and review it myself time and time again to check for any visible flaws with the structure and fluidity of the writing itself, anything is subject to change.

* * *

The Confines of Her Mind

* * *

The Boy-Who-Lived lifted his hand to wipe away the perspiration but soon found them shaking beyond his control. The memories of his Godfather and their first meeting, and the events that led to his fall into the veil and the happenings at Surrey, what he did to Voldemort and that strange but soothing presence that seemed to envelope him like water came rushing back to him, reminding him of what he had he had lost, reminding him that it had been all his doing.Sleep never came easy to the boy, nightmares constantly plaguing him, depriving the boy of much needed rest. Even without his vocal complaint and efforts to hide his exhaustion, any who cast their gaze upon the boy could see the truth. Laying his shaking hand down, the boy began to survey the room before him, hoping the distraction would prove enough to take his mind away his memories.

Spartan in design, the room held very little furniture besides the bed he rested upon; to the boy's right, there was a nightstand on which a lamp stood, providing the only source of light within the room._ If the light is on, it must be nighttime; how long was I asleep? _Shifting his vision towards his left, he found a closet of sorts, his right brow lifting every so slightly; it was not the yellowish closet in itself that caused the boy confusion, but the building materials, limestone he ventured a guess. As the boy took a final glance at the room, he found a door and window closed with a dark wood and that the entirety of the room itself was made from the same stone.

_Wherever I am, most definitely it is not Surrey; it doesn't even seem as if I'm in England anymore. _The boy was surprised how well he had taken to his new situation; instead of the worry, an odd sense of peace accompanied the realization of his whereabouts. The raven's hands stopped their shaking, his tensed shoulders began to relax and his breathing started to even itself out. _Wherever here is … the connection between Voldemort seems weakened … I'm safe … for now. _ With his thoughts, the boy's lips began to curve upwards only to settle into a fine line seconds after.

His fist clenched began to clench, quickly turning white. _How can I feel happy when that Madman is on the loose in England? _His eyes began to cloud with fear. _How can I feel happy when those I care about are in danger? What the hell is wrong with me? _His emerald orbs narrowed, self-contempt swirling within its depths. _Dammit. Calm down Harry, calm down. Getting worked up won't change anything. You don't know where you are, or what has happened. Dumbledore always said there were never coincidences in this world, perhaps it is fate? There's a reason for everything, you just have to find it. The old coot hasn't been wrong thus far._ The peace he had felt before returned, as if it had never left him, as if his worries were trivial. Wherever here was, he was safe. Wherever here was, it was fate._ Whoever brought me here obviously isn't going to hurt me or else I would be dead; they seem to have nursed me back to health, they're obviously going to come by sooner or later and a questioning is inevitable._ Already a plan was running through the boy's mind, his eyes calculating the possible scenario, how much he would divulge and how much he would exclude.

"_It seems you are awake."_

The raven was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not hear the door open or the footsteps leading to his bed until he was faced with a pair of ocean deep blue eyes. _Shit._ Raising his Occulemncy shields like he had been taught by Snape, _hate to admit it but the slimy git actually taught something useful_ the boy suppressing his feelings and memories, anything that contradicted with the role he would be forced to play, he turned towards brilliant blue eyes.

"_Are you alright? You seemed to be in bad shape when we first found you."_ As the speaker neared his bed, he was able to discern that the voice had belonged to a girl roughly around his age. Her golden blonde hair was separated into four buns by a blue ribbon; her bangs reaching past her cheeks, framing her face. She wore a sort of short pink Yukata, a red deep red sash winding around her waist to keep her choice of clothing in place. The girl seemed to be wearing different length fishnet stockings; on her right leg, they began at her open toed black sandals, winding their way up, stopping below her knees. The boy observed that the stocking on her other leg seemed to start at her thighs and wound their way up, disappearing into her Yukata only to reappear around her neck and shoulders. As his eyes traveled to her neck, he found a plate of metal with a symbol of a jar and lid attached to a blue piece of cloth._ "Are you done staring?" _the girl asked, her voice light, her ocean blue eyes twinkling as if she found him amusing.

Realizing that he had been caught staring, the boy averted his gaze in efforts to hide his growing blush. It was then that he realized what he had forgotten the moment he was able to discern who his speaker had been, he couldn't understand her. _Shit. She came so unexpectedly, I failed to notice. Calm down. I just use Legimency to extract the knowledge of the language from her. It's easy, it's a piece of cake, never mind that I've never actually tried it before. _The trio had gone over the theory in detail ever since the Boy-Who-Lived began his lessons with Snape and they reasoned it that perfectly possible, in theory. They had little means to prove their notions true, they had strict values and entering someone's mind without their knowledge, their consent just did not bode well with them. _Hermione is going to kill me but I have to, it'll just be this one time … dammit … well, here goes._

Turning back to the girl, linking eyes, he brushed a tendril of his magic against the edges of her mind, unsure of himself. Meeting no forms of resistance, he gained confidence, pushing further until he found himself in her mindscape, facing three imposing stone statues. As Harry gazed at each of their faces, he briefly wondered who they were; they seemed to radiate a sense of power, a sense of strength. Despite being statues, they seemed so very alive, as if they were watching him, measuring him and with that thought, he diverted his gaze, shaking his head as if to rid himself of such thoughts, fearing that he would be found unworthy the longer he stared. _Let's get this over with, the faster I'm done, the faster I'll stop feeling so guilty._ Despite his resolve, the boy didn't know where to begin, never venturing into someone else's mind. _Snape said to just let my magic guide me, so I guess I'll start with that. _With that in mind, the boy closed his eyes, sending his magic out in all directions.

"Why isn't this working, I can't feel anything at all," the raven growled, running a hand through his hair violently as he opened his emerald colored eyes, his magic setting about him in a fine mist. It wasn't going to work; he was too wound up to continue. He allowed his mind to wander over the past year, going over everything he had learned from Snape, over everything the two had spoke of and theorized about. The man had told him to let his magic guide him but that can't be all, there had to be something else to do it. Think Harry, think. What was the missing piece to this puzzle?

"To search, I need to know what I'm searching for but what the hell am I even searching for?" the boy whispered to himself. Taking a deep breathe to calm his nerves, the boy continued his silent conversation with himself.

"The idea of language itself can be broken down into two groups: verbal and non-verbal. But even then, those two groups can be further divided by vocabulary, the writing and even the pronunciation … which means … which means … someone would have to take time to actually learn it, meaning …. that it's a built up MEMORIES! It's not a memory but a group of memories." With his sudden discovery, the corner's of his mouth began to spread, beginning to curve upwards until a smile was etched upon his lips but just as soon as the smile appeared, it disappeared, replaced by a frown.

"I know they're a grouped number of memories, but how am I suppose find it?" the Boy-Savior mused, his teeth biting his thumb-nail gently as he poured all his attention towards finding her memories. He was lost to the world, not even noticing it when the very same presence that had protected him against Voldemort and his Death Eaters began to condense around him, falling to rest at his feet, swirling gently. It nudged and prodded him, as if telling the boy silently to move forward, that it would lead him towards his goal, but the Boy-Who-Lived was oblivious to it all. Even as his surroundings began to change, even as his feet began moving seemingly of their own accord, he showed no notice. He was alerted of his change in location only when he felt a smooth surface against his stomach.

"I don't remember walking around anywhere," the boy muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly, his eyebrows furrowed. Though he questioned himself, he lowered his gaze, finding a large circular stone table filled with bounded scrolls neatly stacked together, his eyes lighting slightly, twinkling at his new discovery. Hesitantly, he reached towards the scrolls, praying silently that this would be the end of his search.

When his fingers brushed the scrolls, his body stilled, his muscles tensing, as if in preparation for the burden the sudden rush of knowledge would have. Knowing there was little choice, the raven hardened his eyes, settling his lips into a fine line before placing entirety of his down palm down.

The boy's neck jerked upright; his eyes widened, rapidly loosing their focus as they began to glow a soft emerald green, the knowledge he sought beginning to enter him, casting light on the girl's one-sided conversation with him. Her foreign words began to take shape, to take meaning within the confines of his mind.

_She was speaking Japanese._

With his new found discovery, he began to smile but it quickly turned to a grimace, the gentle flow of her memories beginning to flood his senses, wearing him down.

_It's going too fast … too fast … too fast!_

Memories of creating straight strokes and angular corners assaulted him, forcing him to recognize them as Katakana, the simplest of Japanese scripts. Despite how much he had learned, the knowledge seemed to flow faster still, forcing him to learn that people of these lands used Kanji as their formal script, relying Hiragana when the Kanji was unknown, when it was too formal. With every fresh set of memories, the pain heightened. With every passing memory, the pressure in his mind escalated. _Stop, stop …. Stop!_

* * *

TBC

Author's Note: How was that? It took me the whole day, but I finished the third chapter. I'm a little disappointed at the length, mmmm. Despite my disappointments, I hope you enjoyed what little I had to offer. Please read and review, give me a bit of feed back on the characterization, the reactions, the whole shebang and what you would like to see.


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